That Reaper, Meddling
by Rewind to the End
Summary: Ronald Knox is working hard as the newest member of his division, and partying even harder every weekend with his fellow reapers. He's always been puzzled by his supervisor, William, but Grell refuses to let things stay that way… Rating will go up later.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hi, guys! :83 This is a side project I'm working on to keep myself from going insane with school. I don't know how regular updates will be, but I do have a good portion of the plot for this planned out. I hope you guys like the story, and I would love some feedback or suggestions-just post a review or PM me. Enjoy!

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><p>Winter in London was hell on earth, as far as any shinigami was concerned. The season itself was overtime waiting to happen—freezing temperatures, icy roads and bridges, and vicious storms swept the chilly streets of London, prompting more accidents—and a flood of souls in need of reaping. Most shinigami preferred to return straight home after work and get what little sleep they could, but one fairly tame night (weather-wise), two reapers could be found sitting and chatting loudly in a bar, surrounded by empty mugs of beer. Both were blonde, one tall and powerfully built, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened, his dress shirt untucked and rumpled as he relaxed and forgot about the stress of the season. The other, a little shorter and more lithe in build, was still fairly presentable—shoes shining in the dim light of the bar despite the muddy London streets, dress slacks and suit pressed and free of creases, and glasses squarely balanced on the bridge of his nose, not threatening to slip off, unlike like the other reaper's.<p>

He turned to the taller man. "And then," he stuck out his lower lip, puffing up his cheeks like a small child, "he says he needs the reports by tomorrow. All of them!" The blonde shinigami downed his mug of beer, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar. "So I pull four hours of overtime, and I'm five minutes late—he saw me working the entire time!—and then he made me go and do paperwork in his office to make up for not getting everything in on time. The man's a slave driver, Eric!"

His companion looked up from his own beer, eyes hazy with intoxication. "…Yeah, that's William, all right. But he's never been that harsh on me… Did you do something to piss him off, Ron…?" With a disheartened sigh, Eric went back to staring at his drink.

The younger reaper ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. "I dunno… I don't think so, though. Ever since Grell pulled that pole-dancing stunt in the middle of the library last week, he's been in a really bad mood." He let out a weak chuckle, interrupted halfway through by a yawn. "So what's with you? You've had maybe ten beers already, and said about three words all night." He turned toward the older reaper, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "You wouldn't be thinking about a certain little brunette, would—hey!" Ronald's taunt was cut short as Eric cuffed him with his mug of beer, spilling some on the shorter blonde. He sat there, shocked, staring at the amber liquid dripping all over his white dress shirt, and finally sighed, shrugging his shoulders in defeat and smiling at his fuming friend. "Fine, fine. I'll shut up about him, but only if you tell me what's going on. It's not healthy to think about someone that much."

Eric grimaced, his eyes coming to rest on a dartboard on the opposite wall of the tavern. His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion and desperation. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Every time I try to talk to him about something more serious than the weather, he has paperwork to do, or a book to read, or an errand to run." He let out a bitter laugh and took another gulp from his mug, turning to look Ronald in the eye. "He hates me, I think. And I don't know why, and I can't do anything about it. He can work on his own from now on, as far as I'm concerned."

Ronald frowned. "That's weird… You'd think he'd be a little friendlier to you, considering you were his mentor in the Academy. Oh, well." He smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Eric's shoulder. "You'll win him over eventually, I guess."

"I hope…" Eric said with a groan, draining the rest of his beer. "It's getting late. I need to get home and get some rest so that William doesn't kill me for being hung over _and_ oversleeping tomorrow…" He smiled, picking up his heavy overcoat as Ronald pulled on his own coat and arranged a thick woolen scarf on his shoulders . "…you might want to consider it, too. I wouldn't want him on your case again, if I were you." The older reaper smirked and patted Ronald's shoulder, waving as he made his way out of the bar. "See you in the office tomorrow!"

Ronald smiled fondly at Eric's retreating back as his friend made his way to the door. "Alright! Good luck with you-know-who!" he shouted as he followed Eric out onto the street, shivering at the fierce, chilly wind that had sprung up while they were inside. The cold weather did nothing to diminish his good mood, though—Eric had an uncanny knack of being able to talk him out of a any depression he got himself into. Not to say that the alcohol hadn't played a part in his current sense of content... Ronald shoved his hands into the pockets of his warm wool overcoat and braced himself against the wind, whistling a cheerful tune as he strolled back to his apartment in the heart of London.

Meanwhile, a hooded figure made its way out of the bar, shuddering at the cold. A strand of red hair slipped out from under its hood, and shark like teeth glimmered in the blue-white moonlight. "Well, well, well," the smirking reaper said, pulling the dark fabric back and letting his long red hair blow loose in the wind, "that sure was interesting." He grinned, clasping his hands in joy as he plotted how best to act on the conversation he had just overheard, and hurried off down the street, pouting at the cold. "I should get home, too… And now I have to help those two idiots! Honestly, I don't know how anyone at the office would survive if I didn't look out for them…" He shook his head, a rueful expression on his face as he made his way across town. "Eh, whatever… I'll figure something out in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** 'Ello! :8D Just wanted to add a little more to the story, because the first chapter was pretty short. Updates may be fairly regular (barring finals week and school being awful), and I think I'll stick to weekends. Hope you guys like the chapter, and thanks for reading!

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><p>Ronald walked into the office the next morning dragging his feet, his hair rumpled and his clothes thrown on haphazardly—he had woken up less than twenty minutes ago, and it was a miracle that he had made it on time. The young reaper pulled off his damp coat, scarf, and gloves, tossing them carelessly onto his desk as Eric sneakily slipped into the office after him, hoping to avoid being pinned with overtime for being late. Alan was already at his desk, plowing through a pile of paperwork at a frightening speed, while Grell was accosting William on the other side of the five reapers' shared office.<p>

"Oh, Will!" The red-haired reaper exclaimed, pouncing on his dismayed supervisor and flinging his arms around neck enthusiastically. "You're such a gentleman! Any self-respecting lady would be lucky to have you!" Grell clung to the outraged black-haired reaper, who quickly chose to ignore his squealing employee and picked up a stack of paperwork, dragging his burden over to Ronald's desk. "Mr. Knox," he said coldly, adjusting his glasses with his index finger and shoving Grell off of him (and halfway across the office) with his other hand, "your assignment for the day. You are behind on your reports, so the rest of us will be taking up the slack for you. I hope you will not be so careless in the future." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked back to his own desk. "You will have that paperwork finished by the time we leave, or you will have more overtime tonight."

The other four reapers all stared at William in shock—they were leaving in less than three hours, and Ronald had just been given a stack of paperwork that easily dwarfed all of theirs combined. Ronald winced at the quiet _thud! _the stack of papers made as it landed on his desk. He could have sworn he was ahead on his reports, not behind—he had even helped Grell and Eric out last week when he finished early. The young reaper recovered quickly, though, and tried his best to force a grin. "Of course, boss! I'll get it done, no problem!" And with that, he sat down and started working, a tired, hurt expression coming across his face as he struggled through the reports he had been given.

Eric didn't miss the look on Ronald's face, and turned to Grell as Alan silently returned to his paperwork. "Did you see that?" he whispered to the red-haired reaper, who was casting a sympathetic glance in Ronald's direction. "Will's really got it in for the kid."

Grell nodded, crossing his arms and pursing his lips as he tried to come up with a way to help his young protégé. Suddenly, his face lit up in triumph—he had an idea. He pulled Eric down to his height by his shirt collar and whispered in his ear. A grin snuck its way onto Eric's face, and the two exchanged conspiratorial winks. A little justice was in order.

Grell stalked over to William's desk, where their supervisor was furiously scratching out reports, a look of intense concentration on his face. The red-haired reaper struck a pose, his hands on his hips and his expression murderous. "William!" he snapped. William didn't bother looking up—Grell pulled temper tantrums once or twice a week, at least, and he had found that the best way to handle this—and keep his sanity intact, while he was at it—was to simply ignore everything his red-headed employee said and did to get his attention. Grell knew what he was trying to do, though, and he slammed a high-heeled red boot onto William's desk, knocking over William's inkpot. "William, listen to me!" Grell shouted, glaring down at his fuming supervisor, who was frantically trying to clean up the mess the spill had caused and swearing viciously under his breath.

Meanwhile, Eric made his way over to Ronald's desk, swiping a good chunk of the pile of paperwork on his way by. He walked back to his desk, coincidentally dropping about half of the papers he had snatched onto Grell's desk on the way. Ronald stopped working on the report he had nearly finished, staring at the older reaper's retreating back in shock. When Eric sat down, he saw him staring, and gave him a friendly wink, mouthing, "We've got it covered, Ronnie," to the stunned blonde. Ronald mouthed "thank you" back, then got back to his paperwork—he still had to finish it in before William got angry. He didn't want overtime again, not ever.

Before long, the four reapers had all finished their reports. William strode over to Ronald's desk, glaring balefully at him as he saw a shorter pile of papers than he had placed there. "Shirking work, Mr. Knox?" he asked, his tone dangerously quiet and controlled. Ronald stared back up at him, eyes wide, completely lost for words. "Um…"

Eric hastily made his way across the office, leaning on Ronald's desk and smiling at William, placing the completed reports he and Grell had done for Ronald on top of the pile. "Of course he wasn't, William. Mr. Sutcliff and I merely finished our paperwork early and took some of it off his hands—it all got done, so there's no problem." There was an edge to the tall reaper's voice, and a steely glint in his eye that dared William to contradict him.

"Very well," William said abruptly, his barely-contained rage manifesting itself in his strained tone, but otherwise unnoticeable, as he walked calmly back to his own desk and snatched a small stack of papers off of it. "Your death list, Mr. Slingby," he snapped coldly. "You and Mr. Humphries will be working as a pair today." Eric's heart sank in his chest as he saw a twinge of irritation across Alan's face—he was in for a rough day, and William was probably going to give him overtime to boot. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Yes, sir…"

William gave a curt nod of dismissal to the disgruntled pair—Alan picked up his knife from on top of his desk, and Eric hefted his saw, unsuccessfully trying to start a conversation with his partner as they left the room. Ronald winced at the frigid glare William now fixed on him, wondering what his supervisor had in store for him today. William straightened his glasses with his death scythe, which he had retrieved from his desk. "Mr. Knox, you and I will work together today. Sutcliff, you're on your own—try not to kill anyone besides the ones on the list." He cast a sideways warning glare at Grell, who shrugged nonchalantly and swaggered out of the office, crimson red chainsaw in hand and death list sloppily stuffed into one of the pockets of his red coat.

Ronald grabbed his lawnmower and slid his back up, a small knife, into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled on his coat and adjusted his scarf as William retrieved his coat from his desk, and the two of them headed out.

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><p>The weak sunlight made the London streets marginally warmer, though the wind was still gusting through the narrow alleyways and crevices between buildings with a vengeance. Ronald followed cautiously behind William, not wanting to say anything and be saddled with another three or four hours of overtime.<p>

William was not pleased. The exhausted reaper had been working for three days straight without sleep or food—he simply didn't have the time, and he wasn't going to force his team to work all hours of the night when he could just as easily handle it all himself. He was starting to feel faintly dizzy as they wound their way through the streets of London on the way to their first target, and he small colored dots danced across his vision. He couldn't give in, though—he could catch up on his sleep once winter was over, but for now he had work to do. Wrapping his coat a little tighter around himself, he marched forward determinedly, a puzzled Ronald speeding up behind him, afraid to lose sight of his supervisor in the crowded streets.

They made it through the first few jobs without incident—or, at least they did from William's point of view. However, Ronald saw through his superior's controlled front after the first reaping; the way William slipped and nearly fell off the roof as they raced to their target, the way he almost missed the target with his scythe and the way he unsuccessfully tried to hide his swaying walk and bloodshot eyes betrayed him. The younger reaper sighed as they made their way to the next item on the list, a middle-aged washerwoman in one of the poorer districts of the city. No wonder William had been such a bear lately—he didn't look like he'd slept for weeks, and even a small child could probably knock him over with one good, forceful tap. He couldn't say anything, though—William would just take that as an insult and make his life miserable. So he raced after his supervisor, following him from name to name and trying to do as much of the actual reaping as possible to take some of the load off of his boss. Soon, they were getting to the end of their list (which was much longer than Grell's or Eric and Alan's, he noticed—another instance of William overworking himself), and Ronald was alarmed to see that William was no longer able to hide his fatigue. The older shinigami didn't even bother to straighten his glasses, which had fallen askew and were about to fall off his nose after he had slipped and nearly fallen in the icy slush covering the ground—he had caught himself with his death scythe just in time, and he was just barely limping along—he had twisted an ankle trying to corner a particularly fearful target earlier.

Ronald was relieved to see Grell skimming across the snowy rooftops to join them. He waved and grinned at the red-headed reaper, shouting, "Done already?" Grell grinned and nodded, leaping onto the roof that the other two had stopped on and leaning casually on his scythe. "Of course I am, Ronnie! Do I look like a lazy employee to you?" he teased, smiling gently at the younger reaper, who was looking the worse for wear, and glancing worriedly at William, who looked like he was about to collapse right then and there… Grell silently rejoiced—it was just too easy. Slinking over to Ronald, he "accidentally" slipped on the icy roof and fell, the broad side of his chainsaw blade catching William in the stomach as Grell caught himself from sliding off the icy shale below the reapers' feet.

William was not so lucky—the black-haired reaper lost his balance completely and almost toppled off the roof, Ronald's quick reflexes the only thing keeping him from falling into the dank alley five stories below. The younger reaper had grabbed hold of his superior's arm as he slipped and fell, and now he pulled William back up into a standing position. "Are you alright?" the blonde asked anxiously, his hand still firmly gripping William's arm and his face fading into darkness as William collapsed, unconscious.

Grell attempted to look ashamed of himself but failed miserably, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle as he helped Ronald haul William up and carry him back to the library. "Whoops, how clumsy of me!" he said to Ronald, winking cheerfully at the astonished younger reaper. "We'd better get Willy dearest home so he can rest." He turned and dragged the unconscious reaper away, Ronald hurrying to help him.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Hey~ I got a lot of work done on this story, and I felt like releasing another update. This chapter was fun to write-I hope you guys like it, and I would love some feedback, if you have the time. :8) The next chapter will probably be released on Thursday if I have time, and Sunday if I can't get to it before I get caught up in the weekend.

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><p>The next day, William stalked into the office with a headache and a slight limp; he settled down into his office chair slowly, turning to glare at Grell, who smirked back at him, then sighed, saying, "Mr. Sutcliff, you will be taking my death list today in addition to your own. Apparently, the higher ups believe I can't handle field work today…" He shoved the two long lists at Grell, who snatched them up gleefully, and shoved another at Eric. "Mr. Humphries is ill today, Slingby—you will be working on your own. And as for you, Mr. Knox—" William reached down onto his desk and picked up another long list, "—this is your assignment for the day."<p>

Grell sauntered back up to William's desk, doing his best to hide a mischievous grin. "But Will, you're _hurt_—we can't just leave you _all alone_. Why doesn't someone stay back with you?" The red-headed reaper smiled, shark like teeth bared as he draped his arms over William's shoulders and nuzzled up to his superior. "_I _wouldn't mind watching you, you know…"

"Sutcliff!" William roared, sliding out of the chair and onto the office floor to avoid the onslaught of unwanted affection, glaring at the other reaper in shock and outrage. He stared at Grell for a moment, before sighing and using the edge of he desk to pull himself back up to a standing position. Grell pouted. "I refuse to let you stay here all by yourself! If you won't let me stay, what about Ronnie or Eric?" The redhead leaned back against William's desk, grinning—he knew he had the other shinigami backed into a corner.

William looked away for a moment, then finally gave in. "Fine…Slingby, Sutcliff, you are the senior reapers here. Sutcliff, take Mr. Knox's list as well, and get both of them done." Grell nodded cheerfully, walking over to take the second death list from a stunned Ronald. "Now out of here, before I change my mind!" William snapped at the two, who hurriedly pulled on their coats and left the office.

Ronald's shoulders slumped in defeat as the fuming shinigami turned back to his paperwork. He had actually been looking forward to escaping William and his bad temper, even if it meant braving the frozen, icy streets of London. Now that Eric and Grell were gone, he would be stuck alone in the office all day with his supervisor.

Oh, well. He could whine about it later. If William caught him slacking off now, there was no telling how much overtime he would receive in retribution. He straightened his tie and walked over to stand beside William, placing a gentle hand on the older reaper's shoulder. "Um, boss…" he said, hoping for the best. "What would you like me to do? I finished my paperwork yesterday—" William's eyes narrowed at the mention of yesterday's paperwork "—so I can help you with yours, if you like." He gave William a nervous smile—the black-haired shinigami looked aggravated enough to pick up his death scythe from its resting place beside his desk and spear the younger blonde without hesitation if he didn't choose his words carefully.

William spared him a quick sideways glance and a curt nod. "Thank you, Mr. Knox," he said, gesturing to a pile of papers higher than Ronald was tall stacked haphazardly next to an ancient filing cabinet in the back corner of the room. As the older shinigami returned to his work, Ronald walked over to the stack, suppressing a cry of despair. He would be stuck doing paperwork all day! But he walked over to the pile anyway, picking up about a third of it and returning to his desk, then sitting down and getting right to work—William looked up briefly as he did, his eyes momentarily softening with gratitude as he saw Ronald staggering back to his desk with such a large portion of the pile in his arms. The furious scratching of pen on paper filled the office as the two reapers plowed through their work.

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><p>Every once in a while, Ronald would sneak a look over at William, and he didn't miss how his supervisor's eyes slipped shut every few minutes, his head nodding with exhaustion as he tried to stay awake. He smiled at his boss's attempts to keep working, turning back to his work with renewed purpose. Maybe if he worked hard enough, Will might have time to get some sleep tonight, and he wouldn't be so cranky.<p>

Ronald was so absorbed in his paperwork that he didn't notice the time—it was late afternoon when he next checked the clock. He turned around to check on William, only to bite back laughter at the comical sight of his dedicated supervisor asleep at his desk, smudges of ink on his hand and the tip of his nose and glasses crazily askew. He was drooling all over the report he had been working on, and his hair had fallen out of its usual slicked-back order, a few strands falling across the older reaper's face as he slept.

Ronald grinned, sneaking out a small camera he knew Grell kept in his desk for moments like this. He snapped a few pictures before stowing the camera in his own desk—Grell would no doubt notice it missing and ask him about it, but he didn't think the redhead would care once he saw the negatives. Once the camera was safely hidden away, he pondered what he should do with Will—he obviously needed the sleep, but Ronald shuddered to think of what he would do if he found out that the younger blonde had seen him in such a compromising state. He shook his head, sighing. "You're going to be angry no matter what I do," he said exasperatedly to an unresponsive William, grabbing hold of his supervisor's arms and dragging him over to the battered office couch, "so I might as well make sure you have a good nap." He flung a blanket over the sleeping shinigami, then returned to the pile of papers on his own desk—if Will woke up and found him not working, he was in for it.

Hours passed silently by as Ronald finished off the giant stack of paperwork, running over to grab more from the pile. He had always able to speed through his paperwork—he wasn't sloppy like Eric or Grell, but he didn't obsess over minute details and precision like William and Alan did—and, slowly but surely, he made a good dent in the pile.

Sometime after dark, loud footsteps and chattering could be heard from the hallway, and Ronald looked up from his reports to see Eric and Grell trudge into the office, soaked to the bone by the sleet raining down on London. Grell beamed as he saw the sleeping William on the couch and the huge pile of completed reports resting on Ronald's desk; Eric, however, raised an eyebrow, curious as to why Ronald would expend so much effort to help the man who had been overloading him with paperwork and venomous remarks all week as said man slept peacefully on the other side of the room. Ronald, seeing the questioning look, shrugged indifferently. Eric could think what he liked. Careful not to wake William up, the two older reapers quietly made their way to their desks, gathering up their belongings and getting ready to head home. Eric left first, waving and grinning at Ronald as he closed the door behind him; Grell left soon after, chirping, "Don't stay up too late working, Ronnie! And make sure Will gets home all right!" as he left.

Ronald nodded distractedly as they left, still focused on his paperwork. The blonde reaper didn't notice the world outside growing dark, instead writing line after line after line as the sound of William's quiet breathing filled the room. Finally, after another few hours of frantic scratching and scribbling, he sighed. If he wrote anymore, his hand would likely fall off—as it was, it was already cramping in agony as he moved the stack of completed paperwork onto William's desk and walked over to where the older shinigami was still asleep on the couch.

"Boss?" he said nervously, not wanting to earn himself another lecture from a grumpy William. The black-haired shinigami seemed so peaceful when he was sleeping—his usual pinched, strained expression had faded into one of utter content, and his hair was a mess compared to its usual pristine state, loose strands of it falling into his eyes and spilling off of his head onto the couch. His posture, usually rigidly straight and tense with stress, had relaxed into that of a lazy housecat, sprawled boneless across the couch cushions, suit carelessly rumpled and glasses askew. Ronald smiled gently down at his superior. He reached out with one hand and gently shook William's shoulder. "Come on, boss, wake up. It's past one," he chided the older shinigami, who simply mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over to face away from him, curling up into a tight little ball and clutching onto the blanket like a sleepy child. If it hadn't been such an awkward situation, Ronald might have thought it was cute, but he knew that the longer he waited to wake William, the angrier his boss would be. The blonde reaper sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation as he considered his options.

"Okay," Ronald said to William, a vindictive grin sneaking onto his face. "You asked for it, boss!" He pulled out his lawnmower—at least it would have some use for him today—and revved it as loudly as he could.

William sat bolt upright, a hand reflexively reaching for his death scythe—which, luckily for Ronald, was still back at his desk. His face was pale, and he let out quick, panicked breaths as he fixed Ronald with an indignant glare. The young reaper sheepishly set his scythe aside as William processed what was going on. The black-haired shinigami's eyes widened in shock as he unconsciously straightened his tie and set his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to slick it back. He stood up, rounding on Ronald. "Knox, do you know what time it is? What are you still doing here? And what happened—" he gestured wildly at the couch, rumpled blanket still covering it, "—_here_? Explain." He crossed his arms and stared at the younger shinigami, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for an answer. Ronald could practically feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

The blonde blanched at William's angry outburst, eye widening in shock and fear. "W-well," he said timidly, "you were, uh, asleep at your desk, and I figured you needed the sleep, and I knew you'd be mad if sleeping interrupted your work, so I, um, f-f-finished s-some of your paperwork!" The younger reaper's voice squeaked out the final syllable as William looked at him, his expression unreadable as he considered what to do with his subordinate.

The room was silent for a minute; then, William sighed, closing his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose with one hand. He looked Ronald in the eye, and, to the younger shinigami's utter amazement, let out a quiet chuckle, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Knox. I really should take better care of myself…" The black-haired reaper allowed a small smile to grace his features as he walked over to his desk and retrieved his death scythe, turning back to Ronald as he did. "Well, what are you waiting for, Knox? You should be home by now," he said, his voice returning to its normal businesslike tone as he shooed the younger reaper out of the office. "Go on, I'll lock up."

Ronald stared at the office door in shock. William had never been that friendly with him—or anyone, for that matter—that he had met at the Shinigami Library. By all rights, he should have been sliced into tiny little pieces by an irate William's death scythe by now… His train of thought was interrupted by a huge yawn, and he decided to quit worrying—it was too late at night for that. Straightening his coat, the young reaper began his long walk home through the dark streets of London.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Hey, guys! This chapter goes on a bit of a tangent... I couldn't resist putting some Eric/Alan in here. X3 And thank you guys for all the support-I really appreciate it! Next chapter will most likely be posted in a week... I have finals, so I have some catch-up to do. TT_TT

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><p>Alan Humphries slid his warm winter coat off of his thin shoulders, pulling out a stack of paperwork and nodding to William as he sat down at his desk. It was only seven in the morning—well before office hours—but the petite brunette had missed a lot of work yesterday, and he needed to catch up quickly if he didn't want overtime. He adjusted his glasses and ran through his reports without pausing until he finished the last sheet—behind him, William did the same.<p>

With a polite half-bow to his supervisor, Alan picked up the stack of reports and made his way toward the office door. "I'm going to drop these off to the main office, sir. I'll be right back," he said mildly, nudging the door open with his toe and sliding out into the hallway. He strolled calmly down the marble-tiled halls of the Library, which overlooked the central room where all cinematic records were stored; every so often, he would pass a secretary or a senior reaper he knew, and they would exchange greetings briefly before parting ways; by the time he had delivered the papers to the secretary in the main office, he had only a few minutes before he had to get back.

The brunette sighed as he walked, glancing out the tall glass windows that lined the outer hallway wrapping around the Library. He hadn't wanted to call in sick yesterday, but if William had paired him with Eric again, he would have snapped. Being his mentee in the Academy had been easier—they only spent a small amount of time together, and the older reaper had not thought to wonder why Alan had no friends or why he had never talked much about himself. But now that they were working together, and Eric was, well, _interested_, things were rather difficult. He couldn't remain silent forever—he knew Eric was aware of his fragile health, but he also knew that the older blonde had no clue about how serious his illness was. The Thorns would kill him one day, snatching away his life without warning, and there was simply no way he could allow himself hurt Eric like that. So he would remain cold and standoffish, pushing the other shinigami away whenever he tried to get closer to him, until the older reaper finally gave up on him—just like the others.

He turned a corner, and stopped as heard familiar voices. "So why don't you _do_ anything about it?" Grell's exasperated shout rang out from the side hallway below his. "Are you seriously just going to let him make you miserable for the rest of your life, Eric?"

Alan stopped in his tracks, hiding from the sight of the two senior reapers behind a nearby support column and straining to listen to the heated conversation occurring on the floor below.

"I've tried!" Eric hissed back, his voice hoarse with anger. "Every time I try to even talk to him, or help him, he just snubs me, and I have no idea why!" Alan peeked down around the side of the column—he could see that the older reaper's fists were clenched in frustration as he glared at Grell, who merely crossed his arms, feigning a bored expression, as he gave his blonde coworker a cool look. "We-ell, that would make sense," said Grell, inspecting his nails, "considering the Thorns. Maybe he doesn't want to get involved because he knows he'll leave you crying later."

Eric's jaw tightened as he turned to face the nonchalant redhead. "I've known about the goddamn Thorns ever since I was Alan's mentor. Will told me…" He looked Grell in the eye, his voice ablaze with determination. "…And I've been looking for a way to save him ever since." Grell's eyes went wide with surprise as he stared at the taller shinigami, who gave him a sheepish grin. "And he just keeps getting weaker—he's been sick two or three days every week recently, have you noticed?" Eric ran a hand through his hair, letting out a muted groan of stress and frustration. "I've been so worried, but he never even talks to me—I'm afraid I'm just going to come in to the office one day, and he'll be gone, and I'll never get to let him know how I feel, or see him smile, or see him healthy and well…" He trailed off, sighing heavily as he did, and checked his watch. "Shit! Will's going to kill us for being so late!"

The two reapers scurried off down the hall, leaving a paralyzed Alan to slide to the floor, leaning against the column he had been hiding behind. William had told Eric about the Thorns, and the idiot still tried to win him over? What was he thinking? The brunette was trembling as he straightened his glasses on his nose, collected himself, and walked slowly back to the office, trying to put on a normal façade despite the fact that he was seeing and hearing everything through a haze of confusion and shock. What was he going to do…?

And he ran straight into Eric himself, who apparently had been sent out by William to find him. The blonde reaper gave him a concerned look, leaning down slightly to get a closer look at him. "Alan, are you all right? You're shaking…" The brunette said nothing, following after Eric dumbly as the older shinigami all but dragged him back to the office, settling him on the couch and telling him to rest, asking him if he needed anything—to which he silently shook his head—and tucking the blanket William had used the night before tightly around his thin figure. He was vaguely aware of the other four reapers hovering over him—they all sounded worried, and Grell clung to him in a giant hug as if he was afraid Alan was on his deathbed, but he politely told them that he was just not feeling well and that they should return to their work. He asked William if he could please have his paperwork, and the black-haired shinigami fetched it for him without complaint, handing him a pen and a clipboard as well and telling him not to overdo it.

He worked without speaking for a few hours, isolated from the cheerful banter between his coworkers (punctuated by sharp orders from William to quit gossiping and get back to work) by his sudden dilemma. For so long, he had told himself that if Eric knew, he would never talk to him again, he would hate him, he would think he was worthless. Alan refused to be worthless—he worked as much as he could, as hard as he could, he always completed his paperwork on time, sometimes even helping Eric and Grell when they procrastinated on their reports, he gave his all, no matter what it would mean for his health; still, he had always believed that he was unworthy of the older reaper's time and attentions—he would only leave Eric lonely and heartbroken with his inevitable sudden and painful death. He wasn't scared of dying anymore—he had come to terms with his illness some time ago—but he was terrified of growing close to others, knowing that he would only hurt them when his illness reared its ugly head for the final time, and Eric most of all. He couldn't bear to think of how his death would break the older reaper—how could he do that to Eric?

But the pain in Eric's voice as he talked to Grell in the hallway had made him reconsider his actions. Every time he spurned the older reaper's attempts to get to know him, he hurt him even more—and the weight of the cruelties he had inflicted on Eric over the years bore down on his conscience. He couldn't find a reason to deny himself any longer—he had to make up for it, all of it, to the tall blonde reaper who had taken so much abuse from him for so long.

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><p>His veins coursed with nervous adrenaline as the end of the work day approached and the other reapers returned from their field assignments (Eric having affably offered to handle Alan's death list as well as his own), shaking out mud-crusted boots and pulling off soggy winter wear as Ronald cheerfully offered to run and grab them all some coffee. Eric looked exhausted, he noted—his eyes were bloodshot with deep bags underneath them, no doubt from lack of sleep, and he staggered a little as he put down his saw and peeled off his coat and gloves, plopping down heavily in his chair as Grell pestered William on the other side of the room. In no time at all, Ronald was back with piping hot coffee for all of them—even Alan, who smiled at his thoughtfulness and thanked the young blonde reaper politely despite the growing sense of anxiety in the pit of his stomach—and furiously scratching away at their paperwork. Alan kept working, comfortably curled up on the couch with his clipboard and a steadily growing "finished" pile on the floor beside him—he didn't notice that it was time to leave until Grell shrieked his usual goodbye for the night, sashaying out of the room, and Ronald slipped out after the red-headed reaper. William had left to run an errand somewhere else in the library, saying he would be back soon, and now it was just Alan and Eric in the office.<p>

"Hey," the older shinigami said quietly, sliding onto the couch beside Alan, who set aside his paperwork, "are you feeling any better?" Eric's expression was full of concern, and Alan tried to say the words he'd been agonizing over ever since that morning, but they died in his throat. He couldn't take it anymore—the pretending to hate Eric and seeing him recoil in hurt but keep trying even as Alan kept ignoring him and—

"Alan?" The blonde looked even more worried, if that was possible, and Alan knew he had to say–or do—something. He opted for the latter, scooting over to Eric's side of the couch and curling up next to him, burying his face in the older shinigami's shoulder as the stress of the day's events took its toll on him. Eric's eyes widened as the petite brunette burrowed into his shoulder, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, shaking in fearful anticipation as he waited for the rejection that would surely come. The older blonde couldn't stop himself from smiling in relief as he wrapped his arms around Alan's trembling form, running a hand through his short brown hair—Alan wasn't ignoring him! He noticed that his suit was a little damp where the younger shinigami had hidden his face before, and he instinctively hugged the brunette a little closer to him. "Hey, what's wrong? Alan?" he asked gently.

The younger reaper seemed to recover a bit at his questions, and he turned to look up at his once-mentor, sheepishly swiping at his eyes with one hand to clear away the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks. "I…I'm sorry…" he whimpered miserably, and Eric couldn't help it—he just leant down and pressed his lips to the brunette's forehead without thinking, whispering, "It's all right, Alan." He ruffled the sniffling Alan's hair and smiled at the slight blush that tinted his cheeks. "There's nothing to apologize for."

Ear pressed to the office door, Grell stifled a squeal of joy and stood up, dusting off his signature red coat and grinning at a disgruntled William, who he had kept from "interrupting the _moment_" not five minutes before. With a weary sigh, the black-haired shinigami shrugged, turned on his heel, and headed off down the hall without a word, opting to give the two reapers some peace instead of inviting Grell's wrath upon himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Hey! I've been working hard and pounding out chapters over the past few days, and I think I'll update once or twice a week for now... I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'm really grateful for all the support I'm getting from you guys. It makes me do little happy dances and explode rainbow goo on the inside~ X3 Also, I'm bumping the rating up to T for brief mentions of violence/gore here-just skip it over if you don't want to read it. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

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><p>Ciel Phantomhive stared broodingly out at the gloomy streets of London as his black carriage, driven by his ever-present butler, clacked bouncily over the icy cobblestones of the route to the palace. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers in a mixture of irritation and impatience, and sighed, massaging his throbbing temples with a gloved hand as the carriage hit yet another bump in the road. "Sebastian, I order you to hurry!" he called out through the solid wooden walls of the carriage, barely hearing the butler's polite reply as he frowned and resumed his staring out the window.<p>

The queen had called upon Ciel a few days ago to look into a series of murders of nobles—each victim disappeared for a day or two before being found one morning at the gates to the palace. As they pulled up to a stop in front of the site, he had to admit it was a grisly killing—the body ripped in two, its skin and clothing flayed to shreds, and its face unrecognizable, swinging in the fierce winter wind from two sturdy, blood-soaked ropes affixed to the corpses' wrists—it had obviously been left out for a while, as it was coated in ice. The Scotland Yard had not arrived yet—the cold made it difficult to get officers out of their headquarters and out onto the streets quickly—and Ciel, about to burst with glee at finally beating them to a crime scene, nodded to Sebastian, who began to scale the wall to go up and get a closer look.

A few minutes later, the demon hopped down from the top of the wall, his appearance not rumpled or messy in the slightest from the hazardous climb. His face was tight with anxiety, and he grabbed Ciel's arm forcefully, marching him back to the carriage and silently opening the door for his master to get in. Ciel glared at this treatment, giving Sebastian a questioning quirk of his eyebrow, but the demon offered no explanation, and he sighed in defeat, allowing his butler to help him back into the carriage and remaining silent for the entire ride back to the Phantomhive manor. Once they arrived, Sebastian quickly bustled him into the house, furtively scanning their surroundings as they entered. To Ciel's impatient glare, he simply smiled, saying, "We may discuss the case after tea time, master." Ciel bit back a scathing reply—he knew that his butler had his reasons, and so he stalked up the stairs to his office without complaint. A few minutes later, the black-clad demon let himself in, setting a tray down on table and starting to prepare his contractor's tea. He turned to Ciel and said politely, "_That_, master, was the work of demons. Two of them, to be exact." He smiled pleasantly as he placed a full teacup on a saucer in front of his young charge.

Ciel crossed his arms, ignoring his tea for the moment in favor of finding out more. "And what makes you so sure that you know the demon who committed the murder?" His voice was laden with skepticism, and Sebastian suppressed an exasperated sigh. "They always prefer to leave…something like _that_." He wrinkled his nose in disgust—he never really understood the appeal of a bloodied human corpse to a demon, himself. "They are definitely a threat, I should think, and I think that if they had seen you investigating the crime scene too closely, you may well have been next, young master." Sebastian knew he was lying to his master—they had probably already seen Ciel and knew who he was. That could only mean one thing—that they planned to dispose of him before their plans were interrupted by a meddling human…

Sebastian's musings were interrupted by a loud pounding at the door. "Master Ciel! There's some folks at the back gate, and they're bloodied up real bad!" cried Finny, his voice muffled through the thick wood. "I went out to the shed to get my gardening shears…" he trailed off as Sebastian walked calmly out of the room, turning around to face Ciel. "I will handle everything, master," he said, smiling that vicious smile that made Finny shudder in fear every time he saw it as he turned to the young gardener. "Now, would you mind showing me where these injured people are?"

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><p>Pandemonium broke loose in the heart of the Shinigami Library as Sebastian stepped calmly through the flaming red portal in the center of the rows of shelves. He dragged the three injured reapers Finny had found through after him, smiling benevolently upon the chaos he had created with his unexpected arrival. The shocked shinigami rushed to help the wounded to the infirmary, and as they did, he politely asked to speak to one William T. Spears as soon as was possible.<p>

A very tired and cranky William soon found himself sitting across his desk from a very cheerful demon, nursing a glass of tea and a nasty headache as he listened to Sebastian's warning that there was a dangerous demon roaming the streets of London and targeting nobles. He nodded, replying, "We are well aware of the issue… Thank you for you concern, though," through gritted teeth. The filthy monster—the nerve it took to create a portal into the Library and demand to see him! Grell and Eric were probably both dozing away at their desks right now, neglecting their reports—he would have to give them overtime for that.

Ah, well. The irritated shinigami turned his attention back to the problem at hand—getting the damned demon butler out of his Library as quickly as possible. "I hate to cut this visit short," he said, adjusting his glasses as he looked Sebastian in the eye, "but I must return to my office and get back to work. I will share the warning with my fellow supervisors."

Sebastian smiled again, this time that chilly not-smile that made the hairs on the back of William's neck stand up. "Of course," he said smoothly, "I, too, have commitments. Best of luck to you, Mr. Spears." And with that, he gathered himself up and created another fiery red portal, politely waving goodbye to an apprehensive William as he stepped through it back to the mortal realm.

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><p>The following day, the Library was abuzz with tales of gruesome murders and conspiracies against the nobility in London, as well as discussion of the demons likely to have committed the deed. Eric, for the most part, ignored the gossip, instead preferring to sneak furtive glances at Alan as the two of them filled out reports with Ronald and Grell. William was still meeting with the rest of the London supervisors—he had been gone since early that morning, over three hours ago. The blonde reaper sighed, getting up and stretching. "Anyone want coffee? I need a break," he said, turning to face the other three. "I could use a little company, too, if you guys are caught up on your paperwork."<p>

Ronald, who had disappeared behind the huge stacks of papers pile up on his desk, merely grunted his negative reply. Grell was still puzzling over his reports, and he shook his head absentmindedly, trying his best to behave and get his paperwork done while William was gone. But Alan looked up and smiled at him, saying, "I'm almost done. Let me finish this, and I'll go with you."

Ronald was so surprised by Alan's sudden change in attitude toward Eric that he splattered ink all over his nearly completed report; he swore quietly under his breath as he tried to salvage what he could and mop up the mess. Grell was not shocked at all after his earlier bout of eavesdropping—he winked at the bewildered Ronald, giving him a knowing grin as the two reapers in question left the office and slipped out into the hallway. "They're so cu-ute!" the redhead exclaimed. "I came in yesterday morning and found them both asleep on the couch together, so I think they finally figured everything out." He let out a contented sigh, turning to face Ronald. "What do you think, Ronnie? Aren't they _adorable~_?"

"I…I guess," Ronald choked out. "I really wasn't expecting that." The younger reaper let out a shaky laugh and returned to his paperwork as Grell continued to gush about the other two.

Meanwhile, Eric and Alan had retrieved their coffee and were making their way back to the office. The older reaper insisted on sliding an arm around Alan's waist, and the brunette half-heartedly pretended to be annoyed at the gesture—they got a few odd looks from their fellow reapers as they walked along, but Eric simply couldn't be bothered to listen to Alan's weak insistence that the older shinigami release him that instant. He was in a dreamy state of content just being able to talk to Alan and be near him without being pushed away by harsh insults and the other reaper's strong desire for isolation—a couple of shocked faces were nothing compared to the miserable years he had spent agonizing over the petite reaper beside him.

"You're staring," Alan said mildly. "Don't try to cause too much of a scene, all right?" He looked up and gave the blonde a gentle smile.

"Fine, fine," Eric grinned and shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'll see what I can do."

When the two reapers arrived back at the office, they found Ronald working away at his reports and Grell doing his nails; William had still not returned. "Where's the boss?" Eric grunted in Grell's direction as the distracted reaper inspected his work—his fingernails were now a violently bright shade of crimson red. The blonde shinigami reluctantly released his hold on Alan's waist so that the younger reaper could go back to his desk.

Grell grinned. "Oh, Will? He's still at that council meeting… He's not going to be happy when he gets back, that's for sure." He leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not to gossip, but I heard that the demons are targeting the newer nobles—merchants, entrepreneurs, those who get enough money to make it into a title, you know? And apparently their deaths are wreaking havoc on the Library…"

Eric nodded, and Ronald and Alan stopped their work to turn and listen to Grell. Ronald cocked his head to one side, puzzled. "Why would the deaths of a handful of nobles be so important…?" he said curiously.

Alan turned to the younger reaper to explain. "Since books in the Library are the physical representation of the flow of time in the mortal realm, these deaths are really bad—those people aren't just the people who they are _now_, they're also the people they are in the future. All of them are newly made nobility, and they would no doubt have brought much change to the mortal realm." The brunette sighed, returning to his paperwork. "Or, at least, they would have if they had lived…"

Eric smiled in Alan's direction, walking over to stand next to Ronald. "So, with those nobles dead, the Library has to reorder itself. It causes a lot of confusion and chaos down in the main office, I've heard." He ruffled the younger reaper's hair as he turned back to sit down at his desk, pulling out his own paperwork as he did. Soon the only sound that could be heard in the office was that of four pens scratching against paper—and just when everything had quieted down, William returned.

The black-haired shinigami's eyes blazed with barely contained rage as he marched into the room, hands clenched so tight around his death scythe that his knuckles were white. Through gritted teeth, he said, "We have been chosen as the team to investigate this…incident. You will all report to the Undertaker's shop at nine tomorrow."

The other reapers stared at him in shock. Things were about to get interesting…


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Sorry for the late update-Finals Week killed me. XD But here's the latest chapter! I hope you guys like it. Just as a heads up, the next chapter will be a bit graphic, so skim and/or skip if you need to.

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><p>Ronald groaned as he dragged himself out of bed, slipping into a pair of black slacks and a clean white dress shirt before distractedly running a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. He slung his jacket over his shoulder as he slipped out the door, whistling quietly to himself as he strolled into one of the wealthier districts of London. Eventually, he turned a corner to find himself facing the decrepit mortuary run by Undertaker. He walked up to the door, rapping on it sharply with his knuckles, and as the door opened, he gave the retired reaper an awkward wave. " Hey…" he said, grinning sheepishly as the black-clad shinigami loomed over him. "I'm sorry I'm so early, but I figured the boss would already be here by now…"<p>

Undertaker nodded, his raspy voice assaulting Ronald's ears as he beckoned the young reaper inside. "No worries, Ronnie—Will got here a little while back." The retiree's teeth were bared in an unsettling grin, and Ronald nervously stepped into the semi-darkness of Undertaker's shop, following his host down a narrow hallway to the basement of the building. As they entered the small, cozy room Undertaker had reserved for his fellow shinigami to use, William looked up from poring over a map of London and gave them a curt nod in greeting. Ronald leaned over his supervisor's shoulder, peering curiously down at the hastily scribbled markings and notes that covered the wrinkled paper. "Anything you need done, boss?" he asked politely, careful to give William some breathing room as he stared intently at the map.

"Thank you, Mr. Knox, but I think I'll be fine. The others should be here soon, though…why don't you watch out for them upstairs? _We_," he added, giving Undertaker a meaningful half-glare, "have a few _important_ _matters _left to discuss."

Undertaker giggled into his long black shirtsleeves at William's dignified, almost haughty expression. He shook his head in amusement, and the black-haired reaper turned to look up at him from his seat at the table. "What's so funny?" he snapped.

Undertaker grinned again, baring his sharp white teeth, and waved as he exited the room. "Every time I see you, Will, that stick up your ass just keeps getting longer and longer! Hehehe…"

A fuming William wordlessly returned to his paperwork, nearly snapping his pen in half as he scribbled yet another cluster of notes onto the map.

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><p>Ronald absentmindedly tapped his fingers on top of a coffin as he waited for Grell, Alan, and Eric. The young reaper yawned, stretching to soothe his aching muscles—he had been spending far too much time sitting at a desk doing paperwork as of late…<p>

Just then, a quiet rapping sound echoed from the oak door at the front of the shop. Ronald made his way over, carefully sidestepping coffins—both empty and occupied—to go let his coworkers inside. Grell bounced in first, followed by a sleepy Alan, who let out a quiet yawn and rubbed at his eyes as a watchful Eric steered him through the maze of coffins littering the floor with a gentle hand on his shoulder. The brunette was blushing, Ronald noticed, and he couldn't help but smile, expertly hiding a small pang of jealousy. He'd been so busy lately that he hadn't had any time for dates, and none of the girls at the office were looking for anything serious, anyway. Sometimes the blonde wondered if anyone would ever look at him the way Eric was looking at Alan now, simply content to bask in the other's presence…

"—Hey, are you listening, Ron?" The taller blonde reaper smirked and pinched Ronald mercilessly, causing him to snap out of his musings with a muffled yelp of surprise and pain. "We're leaving now," he offered calmly, suppressing a snicker when Ronald huffed angrily at the abuse, and he stepped back behind Alan, who looked at him blearily over his glasses, trying to figure out whether or not he should hit the older blonde.

Ronald saved Eric the effort of apologizing to Alan, letting out a laugh and following the older reaper out the door without a complaint or a hint of annoyance. William was waiting just outside the door. "We have heard rumors of demon activity in some of the poorer areas of the city… Today we will be combing through two manufacturing districts for any leads we can find." The black-haired reaper wrinkled his nose in distaste, as if he could smell the stench of the lower city before they even arrived. "Knox, Slingby, you two will be taking the east side of the factory district. Mr. Humphries, I am depending on you to keep Sutcliff in line." He glared at Grell over the frames of his glasses. "You two will take the west side. I will be roaming throughout the area, in case they attack or are on the move. Understood?" His green eyes narrowed as he looked each member of his team in the eye.

"Yes, boss!" Ronald smiled in anticipation of a day spent wandering the streets of London. Beside him, Eric nodded, a wide grin settling itself on his face. Alan showed no outward sign of his approval, but Ronald caught the small upward quirk of his lips as William dismissed them. Grell, of course, was overcome with joy, already jumping from rooftop to rooftop with insane speed and brandishing his red chainsaw delightedly at the sky as he hurried onward. Alan sighed, adjusted his glasses, and set off after him, resigned to having to deal with Grell's boisterous antics for the rest of the day.

Eric turned to Ronald. "Well, we should go," he said, smiling at Alan's retreating figure, almost caught up to Grell by then. He hefted his saw and set off across the rooftops of the city, Ronald close behind.

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><p>Grell sighed dramatically, sliding a hand back to flip his long red hair out of his face to spill down his back and shoulders. He crossed his arms and turned to Alan, pouting. "We've been looking for hours, Alan! I wanna take a break…" he whined, tugging at the younger reaper's jacket like a demanding toddler. Alan remained unaffected, giving Grell a cold stare that clearly said, "We are here to work, not to go off on wild goose chases, Mr. Sutcliff," in a first-rate imitation of William. Grell deflated, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "Fine, but can we at least get something to eat?" he begged the brunette, grasping hold of one of his hands and grasping it imploringly.<p>

"Later," Alan grunted absentmindedly as they inspected yet another factory. They had posed as higher-ups from one of the wealthier districts of London, inspecting the company for productivity and employee conduct—a fat bribe had also made the factory owner more than willing to let them wander the premises unchecked. The petite reaper wondered where William had managed to find so much mortal money… Ordinary shinigami, with the support of the Library, did not use currencies inside their realm, and he had assumed that someone like William, who almost never left the library, would be clueless about the mortal realm and its ways. His supervisor was more observant than he had thought.

As they headed up to the attic of the factory building, the two shinigami took more care in their inspection, looking for disturbed dust, footprints, fingerprints—anything that might betray the drafty, dark room as a demon's temporary hideout. After about five minutes, Alan shook his head. "Nothing here," he said quietly to Grell, turning to leave the room. "Let's go." But the younger reaper froze almost as soon as he got the words out.

Grell could feel the air getting colder in the room as Alan collapsed on the floor, convulsing and letting out muffled cries of pain. The black thorns that wrapped around his body, unseen under the thick winter coat he was wearing, coiled around the stricken reaper, tightening around his torso mercilessly. Hostility and hatred rolled off of the thorns in waves, and Grell stepped back, nauseated. The redheaded reaper wanted nothing more than to pull the thorns off of Alan and stopped the brunette's choked, fearful whimpering, but he knew that his moving closer or trying to interfere would only upset the thorns and make the other shinigami's suffering worse.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the thorns retreated, their damage done—Alan lay panting on the floor, pale and sweating. He didn't have the strength to stand up on his own—Grell slid an arm around his waist to hold him up, while Alan slid an arm around Grell's shoulders for more support. He looked like he would collapse unconscious any minute. Grell tried to smile reassuringly, but failed—Alan didn't notice, too occupied by the wracking pain that seized his body as the thorns took their leave.

The redheaded reaper eventually gave up on dragging the half-conscious Alan and decided to just carry him, jumping rooftops over to the other side of the district in hopes of finding Ronald and Eric. He moved fast, his pace bolstered by the urgency of Alan's condition, and he ran into the other two shinigami only a few minutes into his search.

The older of the two blondes went pale. "What happened?" he shouted at Grell, running toward him faster than the redhead had ever seen him move before. The other shinigami looked up at him as he landed a few feet away. "He had another attack," he said, letting Eric take Alan off of his shoulders, the blonde carelessly tossing his death scythe to the ground in his worry, and possessively cradle the weakened reaper in his arms without protest. " I think Undertaker should be able to handle him, though… There's no need to go back to the Library." He sighed—Eric was ignoring him completely, instead whispering quietly and reassuringly to the brunette in his arms, doing whatever he could to distract him. Alan curled into Eric's chest, grabbing a fistful of his dress shirt and clenching it in a white-knuckled fist as he fought to keep from screaming at the pain.

Ronald finally caught up to the other two, letting out sharp, short pants of breath from the exertion. His eyes widened once he realized that Alan had had an attack. "Let's head back to Undertaker's," he said tentatively, tugging gently at Eric's sleeve. The older reaper turned around, eyes blazing, but he controlled his temper and sighed in frustration. "All right," he replied curtly, setting off across the rooftops at a blazing pace that left Ronald and Grell both scrambling to keep up.

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><p>William had seen his subordinates making their way back to the Undertaker's shop, noting Eric's gentle hold on Alan's motionless form with concern; however, he currently had much bigger problems to deal with. He turned around to face the shadowy figure that was striding out of the London mist to confront him, reflexively hefting his death scythe as it drew nearer. "What do you want?" he said coldly, a haughty expression on his face.<p>

The person—or thing, William couldn't tell what it was—stepped out of the dark shadows of the alleyway to face the apprehensive shinigami. "You have been meddling," it hissed, in a two-toned singsong, gesturing grandly with its hands as it produced two knives from underneath its ashen gray sleeves. It seemed formless, shapeless, almost, under its nondescript, battered coat, riddled with tears, tatters, and patches and everywhere smudged with black soot. Its face was white as porcelain, one eye slanted upward, with a narrow slit pupil, catlike—the other stared crazily off into space, wide, staring, swerving. Both of its eyes gleamed a crazed, bloody red, and its black hair streamed messily over its shoulders, swishing about as if it had a will of its own. William tried his best not to back away and run as fast and as far as his legs would carry him—something told him that this creature would be able to outrun him and would devour him without a second thought, if it chose. So he stood still, looking it in the eye, waiting.

"Yes, yes," the creature purred, raising its arms up as its outline flickered madly, dividing—wait, dividing?—into two distinct forms. William shuddered at the sight. The two's outlines wavered, fading into the mist, then slowly solidifying as they advanced on the trapped shinigami. "You have been meddling…What have you found out, I wonder…?" One trailed off into a high-pitched cackle, its wide, staring eyes flitting in different directions as it shuddered with mirth. The other, its eyes clear and dangerously narrowed, walked up to William, tilting his chin and forcing him to look up into its gleaming red eyes, a predator inspecting its prey. "Give up the scythe, or you will suffer even more, and we shall find your comrades and kill them, as well," it hissed, snatching William's hedge clippers from an unprotesting hand. "Now, walk," it said icily, a knife gently resting against the small of William's back, another pressed against his throat. He stepped numbly forward, the lithe figure following close behind, its crazed mirror image standing off to the side and looking on gleefully as he was lead into one of the abandoned warehouses Ronald and Eric had inspected earlier. "You will sing before this is over, little blackbird," the lower voice jeered, its high-pitched twin breaking off into a piercing titter of anticipation. "And maybe you will learn to stop meddling, as well."


End file.
